My words began to haunt me.......

Dear Ether,

To become haunted by oneself through ones own words is disturbing.  I would see the same pattern in my writing that happened in my real life.  I started out with promises of friendship, stories, fashion, beauty—and yes, life as it truly was (the good, the bad and the ugly).

But as time progressed, all I began to do was write about the bad and the ugly.  See Ethers, this is what always happens to me outside the sphere.  I lure people in, friendly with a sense of humor, witty banter about vacuous pop-culture.   I even look the part wearing trendy clothes and a big lip-glossed smile.  But as you get to know me, the facade cracks and all I am is gloss.  A shellac that you brush over worn out wood or cracking paint to make it appear glistening.  But, underneath this varnish, what you have is damage that needs repairing.  And even through my anonymity, my veil, I still couldn’t stop from being who I was.  I could have hit the delete button or not published certain stories—but I did.  In doing so, One of 365 just became another ugly appendage of the human being sitting in front of the screen.  I was afraid of people leaving me.  Becoming bored of me.  I felt self-conscious, like I was moaning about the same woes for months and no matter what advice I was given, couldn’t change.  Being deserted again horrified me.  I couldn’t bear being a failure in yet another forum of my life.  So, I pulled a Houdini of sorts and disappeared.  I didn’t check my e-mail for One of 365, leave comments on posts of fellow bloggers who I love, Twitter became a ghost-town for me.

So, why today?  Is it because it’s the 1st of February?  A new start and a fresh month?  No. A dear friend of mine dedicated a post to me.  I didn’t deserve her kindness, as I didn’t answer a single e-mail from her for 3 weeks.  But my bosom buddy Wildernesschic (who if I could have a smidgen of her passion and kindness…) kept at me.  I couldn’t believe someone was willing to see past being ignored.  And then, with a deep breath, I checked my inbox and comments area.  I was surprised to see that others had asked after me too. I was so grateful.

I don’t think I’ll ever be writing about cotton candy and keg parties.  That’s just not me.  And you know what else isn’t me anymore?  ”One”—at the header of my page.  The story will always be there for all to read—it is my first entry.  But, I’m going to re-write that page as an “about me” instead.  The only thing that still stands true in that piece is my hope in One of 365 to discover something in the journey of blogging.  So far I have already.  And one of the realizations is that a huge part of my writing here in the ether no longer has anything to do with that girl and her night with Mr. X.  As said, it will always remain in One of 365’s archives, but it is no longer who I am.   And, I’ve thought about the title One of 365.  Yes, I will do my hardest to post daily.  But one day out of 365 doesn’t necessarily mean consecutive days.  Fair compromise?

To all you who cared about me and didn’t just “gloss over” this varnished set of numbers….as always….

Dedicatedly yours,

—One of 365

GULP!!!!!

Dear Ether,

It’s really quite strange.  One of 365 is a very small, anonymous blog.  A lovely and loyal group of chapettes leave kind comments, and occasionally I’ll get a few newbies leaving their P.O.V’s.  But, in my working life, my writing is published under my real name.  The articles are very public in well-known titles. Publications always post what I write online after it goes to print.  Standard these days.  I’m not used to having anyone really Tweet my work or write anything that I can’t censor before they leave a comment.  However, with this new situation, it’s my name and my writing standing stark naked for the world to judge.  

Often I get wonderful re-tweets and kind words.  And then I get shitty comments really attacking what I’ve written.  Total cringe.  I’ve recently been asked to start blogging for a national newspaper in addition to writing articles for them.  Well, it’s certainly a change of pace from One of 365.  My voice is 100% different, as are my topics and my word limit.  No swearing, nothing too daring and always having to mind my p’s and q’s.  I also have an editor making sure what I submit is proper.  

It’s so weird living this double life.  I can’t check the back-end of these sites to see hit rates or stats.  I can’t pick images.  I feel so out of control.  I also really want to reply to people who leave their opinions, but I’ve been instructed that this is off limits.  So, yes, silenced from any kind of interaction.  

As a writer…as a PAID writer….the sacrifice you have to make is once you hand over you work, it often no longer belongs to you.  I need the money.  That’s the truth.  So, I have to shut my trap and keep on trucking.  Look, I’m not likening myself to a celebrity, but you know how they say they don’t read what the tabloids say about them?  BOLLOCKS!  I am obsessed with comments about my articles and reading reviews about my writing.  My articles are posted on more than a few blogs and I wish so badly that I could write to bloggers—either thanking them or explaining to them what the truth is.  Hey, everyone has a right to their opinion.  But, the more public my work becomes, the tougher it is to just be quiet.  C’mon.  You guys know me.  Have I ever seemed like the type to be shy?  Exactly.  I think many of you Ethers, if you knew my real identity, and read my work, would laugh at my pieces.  See a whole other side of me.  

Right now I am at the stage in my career where I need to start marketing myself and getting my name out there even MORE.  Oh yeah.  MORE.  That means opening the door to a whole lot of extra opinions.  I don’t have the thickest skin, and maybe this is a good time to grow it.  And if I want to be a winner in this media game, I better start to play harder.  But I gotta tell you, the pressure and anxiety—always trying to please everyone—make the right decisions.  I feel like I’m in a fog.  

Right.  Back to my latest feature.  How very odd indeed.  I wonder if it will be loved or hated?  Or, actually, when I’ll start to not give a shit?  I’m never going to be the next Austen or Roth………..shit, I never thought I’d ever work again as a paid writer.  But I have to say, even the little bit that I add to the recycling bins of the world, well, it can be surreal sometimes. 

Dedicatedly yours, 

—One of 365

Where have I been? In dreams of sweet smelling lavender.......or so I one day imagine.

Dear Ether,

No. Please. Don’t be frightened.  I mean, not that you were or anything.  (Clearing throat) It was just in case there might be one or two of you who MIGHT have wondered where I’d been, that’s all.  

I’ve missed blogging.  Before I became a “blogger” I never knew how good it felt to be able to write and speak my mind and heart.  Sometimes say wild things. Write in stream of conscious.  Tell stories that no one knew but myself.  And since Friday (my last post), I have missed this form of expression dearly.  

My days have consisted of 14 hour sessions of research and writing about a subject that is so bizarre, so controversial—yet to the outside world appears foolish and cut and dry.  I have been writing about UGG boots and their phenomenon.  From my research, I have found so much history, so many lawsuits, so many opinions from so many rich and powerful people (in a multi-BILLION dollar trade) that this has turned into a full-fledged investigative reporting piece.  My piece is going to really make a huge impact when it is published.  I’m really quite scared.  You have to remember, I write about mascara and Sienna Miller, not counterfeiting and fraud.  A lot of people I’ve worked with have been so kind to me.  So generous.  There are so many players in this boot game.  I want so very much to represent everyone fairly.  But, for the first time I have not been able to write magazine cheeriness. I have had to write like a newspaper reporter.  I want to disconnect my phone and computer on Sunday.  Am I proud of this piece?  I don’t have a fucking clue.  I am numb.  I, when I agreed to write this, never expected it to be a 3,000 word expose.  If I fuck this up, I could be out of a job and blacklisted from a lot of tick-lists for a long time.  And that’s NOT what I need.

Why couldn’t I have been good at math?  Then I could have been an accountant or a broker?  Or better at standardized tests and deductive reasoning?  Maybe I would have been a swell lawyer?  Science—a doctor?  But, alas, I have none of these talents.  And a career switch for me is impossible.  I don’t even LOVE writing.  I love ideas and coming up with themes for photo shoots and working with a team and researching ideas.  But when it comes to the craft of sewing a piece of work together, nope, don’t love it.  It upsets my stomach, I never feel terribly confident and Ethers, it ain’t gonna make me rich!

I find life confusing.  I find my brain muddled and cloudy and it is often difficult for me to think and categorize my life.  I live in a world with half-drunk mugs of coffee, warm soda cans and a desk filthy with old business cars and eyebrow tweezers.  My coaster is a “Last of the Mohicans” CD soundtrack I must have bought 10 years ago (fuck knows).

I dream of lying in a field of lavender in Grasse.  The oils are released in the baking of the sun’s heat.  They calm me like a drug.  The sky is a perfect hue of crisp blue and I am wearing a full skirt made of white cotton.  I can’t visualize the top.  My hair is loose.  My dog sits beside me just a few feet away under a tree.  I no longer have a hump on my back from my days sitting at my computer desk.  No black circles under my eyes are seen on my now tan skin.  My cuticles have healed because I am no longer nervous.  I owe not a single E-mail, phone call or time-limit to anyone.  I am a stranger.  They truly address me as One of 365.  There is no English gent, no family.  I am ageless.   I am a polyglot.  I have endless credit in the bank.  I never gain weight.  I never feel pain.  I drift in and out of consciousness.  It’s like being given a second chance….maybe a re-birth.  

How sad to always escape into a hopeless dream.  Why can’t one be content?  That’s for another night.  This evening, my tired body has to rest and maybe I’ll catch a glimpse of myself in Grasse for a short, sweet minute, smelling lavender.

Dedicatedly yours, 

—One of 365

Now THIS makes an impact. Everyone wants to go to The Ritz! Now, let's be real. My humble blog will never be as mighty as this legend, but I'd certainly like it to be as welcoming and for people to want to come inside. Please help me figure out how I can get a diamond slightly as big as the Ritz

Dear Ether, 

I was having a very interesting debate about blogs the other night with a fellow astronaut in the sphere.  He also happens to be a marketing strategist so he thinks in a way that I most certainly do not.  His insight into this world is fascinating.  

I know blogging isn’t about statistics, but c’mon, we all take a gander at them.  Not to be competitive and get book deals with Penguin, but to see if anyone out there is reading us.  After five months my blog stats have remained the same and this has concerned me.  I don’t understand why I’m not getting more hits and why my hit rates aren’t steadily rising (I post every day and I try and choose lovely photos!).  Is my site unsightly?  Are my pictures ugly?  Are my titles/captions bad?  My content rubbish?  I’m worried.  Well, marketing maestro asked me a very interesting question.  What was my bounce rate?  Well, quite high actually.  This, he said, was key.  He said people were clicking on my site and then leaving before they had a chance to read my content. Those who read my work probably liked it. This proved the consistency of my solid number I could count on every day. But most other people never got that far.  Here’s the analogy he thought best:  It’s like having a restaurant. You’ve got great food, an amazing chef and a great interior with lovely staff.  Hey, even the toilets are nice with Molton Brown hand soap.  But, the awning is rubbish, the sign is torn, you haven’t swept the sidewalk and your curb appeal is just awful.  No one is going to walk in and open the door to see the innards because they think the outside is a reflection of the inside.  

But is this so?  Is that what’s going on?  Or, is the market simply too saturated with blogs? OR people can’t be asked to read anything longer than a blurb or two and my posts are too lengthy so when they see my post they find it too daunting? All these questions and more are what make up my blog post today.  For those of you who’ve “stepped into my restaurant,” who’ve actually made it this far into my content, I’d love your advice.  I want more people to read my writing and readership to grow, but something is wrong and I can’t put my finger on it.  So, today I’m asking for suggestions.   Think of it as me doing a bit of blog market research.  I’m going to put being humble aside for a moment.  I think my content is really decent.  But again, people aren’t getting that far.  

I am not looking for a pat on the back.  PLEASE.  Don’t toot my horn or try to be nice.  Honesty is what I’m looking for.  When I set out to write One of 365 I wanted it to be read by a lot of people so I could connect with the world and grow.  I don’t want to be another blog statistic.  I could really use your advice.  Hey, if you think I’m wrong and think my content is shit, fuck it—let me know.  Speak your mind.  I want my restaurant to flourish and you guys are the people I want to come in and enjoy a meal with.

I also think this will be an interesting case study for other bloggers out there to think about how this might aid you as well if you have the same concerns.  

On that note……I appreciate your feedback and wait in haste for thoughts.  My ripped awning is waiting to be fixed.  

Dedicatedly yours, 

—One of 365

"A throne is only a bench covered with velvet." Napoleon Bonaparte (I am not so cynical, but isn't that a great quote! No wonder he had a chip on his shoulder I am very pleased with my bench covered in velvet, thank you very much!)

The RAM on my computer is very pleased.  It’s being filled with wonderful gifts from fellow bloggers who have been kind and generous with their love and thoughts.  The uber-cool Forty Not Out (who has not only a really fab blog that will make you crack a smile with her humor and wicked wit but also, as a fellow blogger, will make you jealous of how good her design taste is—killer header woman!) has given me the “Queen of ALLL Things” award.  From a stylish lady who has pretty damned good taste, I’m taking this as a great sign that I’m still (kinda) hip.  So eat your heart out LIZ!  But, to boot, my best mate on the blogosphere, who has a blog I endlessly rave about, Life, The Universe And All Thats In It, doubly whammied  me and now I can say I am TRULY pretty in pink.  

I’ve said this before when I’ve been lucky enough to be given an award.  The best thing about being recognized by your fellow bloggers is that you know that like-minded and intelligent people, who are out there busting their balls doing exactly what you are trying to do, are giving you a virtual high-five.  It shows that there is no back-stabbing and bitchiness and that we all are rooting for each other.  I wish I was a better supporter when it came to blogging.  I LOVE the girls who I have on my blogroll and I read their entries daily—but often don’t leave a comment—which sucks because I know it makes MY day when THEY do.  So this award is going to reform me.  Knowing that I have this crown, I have a new duty.  To be a better comment leaver–I mean even the Queen takes the time to write you a letter when you turn 100 (well, she signs her bloody name).  But just know that every day I check up on you guys and I really keep up on your worlds.  In fact, I really want to broaden my horizons and make new blog buddies.  An award like this just reminds me about how important this has to be in my  life because blogging is such an integral part of my routine.  

I have no one new to pass this award on to.  I have recently received an award and dedicated it to everyone on my blogroll.  So, this is what I propose to do with my crown.  I want to dedicate this to the millions of bloggers who give their hearts and souls to their keyboards every day, week, month—sometimes never even getting a hit but always persevering because they love writing and have a passion they must express.  From the guy who writes a new chess move on his blog each day to the fashion photographer who posts her photos and  dreams of becoming the next Sartorialist.  Whatever our desires for doing this are, may they prevail and may all of us be around for a long time.

Thank you again for this wonderful recognition and for making me feel truly like a real Monarch of the Web for the day

Dedicatedly yours, 

—One of 365